Army Of One

By Mark E. Hendricks

Biologically Engineered - Genetically Enhanced - Warrior, Incorporated has finally created the ultimate super-human, complete with great strength, telekinesis and telepathy in a small, compact body. However, what they did not count on was their new fighting machine becoming more human than they designed... or desired, complete with compassion for her fellow human beings, and falling in love.

To top it off, now their new secret weapon has been stolen, reprogrammed, and is being used to destroy the very existence of the Terran way of life.

With the help of her inner-self, Matti is going to have to overcome some daunting obstacles. But, whatever other qualities BEGEW created in their super-warrior, being easy to kill wasn't one of them, and the last thing you want to do... is piss off the Advanced Front Line Ultra Warrior!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Feb 5, 2009
• ISBN: 9781412237765

Mark E. Hendricks

Born April 21, 1959, Red Bank, New Jersey. Joined the U.S. Navy in 1978 and spent the next 24 1/2 years flying and hunting submarines. Retired in 2002, he is now a Training Development Specialist, writing curriculum and providing instructional training. He has a beautiful daughter named Qira. When not working and writing, he can be seen on the diamond umpiring baseball.

Book preview

Copyright 2005 Mark E. Hendricks.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Edited by Beth Reeves

Cover art by Holly Smith

Note for Librarians: A cataloguing record for this book is available from Library and Archives Canada at www.collectionscanada.ca/amicus/index-e.html

ISBN: 978-1-4120-6308-1

We at Trafford believe that it is the responsibility of us all, as both individuals and corporations, to make choices that are environmentally and socially sound. You, in turn, are sup-porting this responsible conduct each time you purchase a Trafford book, or make use of our publishing services. To find out how you are helping, please visit www.trafford.com/responsiblepublishing.html

Our mission is to efficiently provide the world’s finest, most comprehensive book publishing service, enabling every author to experience success. To find out how to publish your book, your way, and have it available worldwide, visit us online at www.trafford.com/10510

Image310.PNG

www.trafford.com

North America & international

toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada)

phone: [phone] ♦ fax: [phone] ♦ email: [e-mail]

The United Kingdom & Europe

phone: [phone] ♦ local rate: 0845 230 9601

facsimile: [phone] ♦ email: [e-mail]

10   9   8   7   6   5   4

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Appendix

To everyone who provided

guidance and insight

to this project

(and there are more than I can count),

you have my undying thanks.

Chapter 1

Malcolm Mathers

President and Chief Executive Officer

Biologically Engineered-Genetically Enhanced-Warrior, Incorporated

Board of Directors’ Quarterly Status Report for Third Quarter, FY-37

July 7th, 2237

Ladies and Gentlemen:

I would like to take this opportunity to dispel any rumors you may have heard, as well as allay your fears regarding these rumors. First of all, BEGEW is no way in financial difficulties. This company has never, and will never lose money. You will all agree that even though our earnings for last quarter were modest compared to those we have seen in the past, we in fact did receive earnings of 16 percent. Those earnings are off by only seven percent from this time last year. To reiterate, this company has never, and will never lose money. We are after all, the only provider of superior warrior beings; we cannot lose money.

It has been asked why our earnings were not what we are used to seeing. Let me assure you all again that the direction we are taking into the 23rd century requires that we heavily develop telepathic and telekinetic abilities into our new models. Power of the mind and power of the body will be required to defeat the enemies of Terra in the next century. We have so far invested 280 billion Terran dollars into this endeavor to create the ultimate warrior, and we must press on toward the goal of developing this product. Granted, our first attempt to create the all powerful warrior was less than successful, and we lost our initial 180 billion investment, but we have overcome those obstacles and are now on our way to completing the second prototype.

Along with telepathy and telekinesis, our scientists have also worked toward reducing the body size of the new advanced prototype without sacrificing strength. I am pleased to inform you that we have succeeded in both areas. In fact, strength has been increased by forty-two percent over our current Front Line-Heavy Equipment-Infantry Warrior (FL-HE-IW), and Phase-One for our Advanced Prototype Main Assault Telepathic/Telekinetic Experimental Warrior (AP-MA-T²-X-W) model is now complete. The AP-MA-T²-X-W will be out of its growth pod in less than two weeks, with learning and testing to begin immediately. I anticipate that it will be fully functional within the year. I have spoken to the Army regarding our deadline, and they are willing to work with us to accomplish our goals.

Some of you may have heard that a lot of engineers and scientists were fired because the original prototype failed. That is just not true. Some people that were not meeting our expectations were let go, but the core staff necessary to complete this task were retained. The one major personnel change that was made was to install Jack Granger as Project Director. I believe that this move is essential to meet our goals, and I have complete faith that he will bring this project in successfully.

Again, I assure you that we are not in financial or project difficulties, we may have fallen behind in schedule due to the unsuccessful creation of our first prototype, but we have rectified any and all problems and are now ready to proceed with testing and turning out our new model.

Sincerely,

Malcolm Mathers

« « · » »

Date: July 7, 2237

From: [e-mail]

To: [e-mail]

Subj: APMAT2 XW Delivery Schedule

Jack,

I just sent out a letter to the board putting to rest their fears that we’ re behind schedule. I’ve told them that I have a lot of faith in your abilities to pull this off. Don’t let me down! If this project fails to meet its deadline, it’s going to look very bad for you and your future with this organization. Do whatever you have to, to get this prototype out on the street for testing by this October. You have carte blanche to complete this project. Remember, you will be paid T$10,000,000 for each month ahead of deadline this is completed. Just don’t fuck it up by cutting corners!

One more thing, I’m assigning Robert Thompsen as your Deputy Director. I’ve not actually seen him in action, but he comes highly recommended. He came over from Quality Control; he’ll be your whip in accomplishing this project. Failure is NOT an option.

MM

« « · » »

Darkness descended on the New Mexico desert and brought the chill of the October night. What was once a wasteland ravaged by war, was now the thriving metropolis of Diamond Sands. People live in the Tularosa Basin for one reason, and one reason alone . . . to work at the world’s greatest provider of jobs. Biologically Engineered-Genetically Enhanced-Warrior, Incorporated, employed seven million people between its New Mexico site and the facility on Mars. What started out as a small medical research company in illicit cloning technology had grown into the single largest non-military employer conglomerate in the Terran system, and the sole supplier of genetically enhanced soldiers.

BEGEW owned the rights to DNA and genome manipulation technology and closely guarded its secrets from the rest of the galaxy. Other colonial worlds tried to duplicate their skill, but none had succeeded, leaving BEGEW to hold the monopoly on superior humans for almost two hundred years since the end of the Fourth World War.

During the aftermath of that last devastating conflict, the remnants of the planet’s governments were forced to come together and reach a consensus that a planetary peace was necessary to ensure the survival of humanity. The war had taken too many lives and destroyed too much real estate; the entire Persian Gulf, from Palestine to India, was still devoid of life. The kinetic weapons of mass destruction, though not nuclear in nature, were still destructive enough that it would be another fifteen years before researchers would be able to enter the quarantine zone to assess the long-term damage.

Four billion people died during the 14-year war and the remaining five billion were still coming to grips with the implications. The newly formed Terran government banned kinetic plasma weapons of all kinds, and determined that a new type of warrior was needed, one whose sole purpose was to fight the future battles to ensure prosperity and provide security for the Terran race. BEGEW, Inc. fought and lobbied hard. It won the contract over three other Terran companies, quickly applied newfound knowledge . . . and peace reigned for a while.

Then, seven years later, Terra was attacked and invaded by the settlers of Regus-II in an attempt to exercise control of the planet. When the invaders arrived they met a staunchly unified planet with its first division of battle hungry enhanced warriors, and after seventeen more months of bloody war, and another billion people dead, the invaders were finally driven from the planet. Terra decided that Regus-II would pay for its attempt at conquest, and the BEGEW units were sent to eradicate the planet’s population to show the rest of the explored galaxy that Terra would not be terrorized by its off world colonies.

Tasting a satisfying victory, Terra launched its own attacks to demonstrate that it now had the means to defend itself from aggression. The enhanced units quickly replaced inferior human beings, and the Terran Planetary Expeditionary Army eventually held four star-systems under the Terran flag. Through it all, BEGEW kept up the furious pace of creating warriors for the Army. The economies of the conquered planets were tapped to bolster Terra’s Gross System Product, and BEGEW created more and better warriors—at one point turning out more than sixty warriors a month. The people of Terra were pleased with BEGEW’s creations, for average humans no longer had to fight the ugly conflicts thatwasted precious lives.

But, the conquered planets fought back, with the same intensity that Terra had used to rid themselves of the Regus-II invaders. However, they were no match for the enhanced warriors, and each resistance failed. BEGEW again kept the pace in its bid to stay ahead of Terra’s enemies. The warriors returning from battle provided a wealth of raw data and knowledge to the scientists, and improvements were constant as newer models replaced older units no longer deemed fit for duty. The Army and its warriors rolled over their foes; Terra was unstoppable.

Over the past eight years though, Terra’s enhanced warriors met with stiffer resistance and they began losing soldiers in greater numbers. Opposition forces were developing their own brand of enhanced warriors, with limited success, but with enough success to rattle the Army and the government, and pressure was applied to find a new way to create super-warriors. The company once more came through as its geneticists found a way to manipulate DNA and genome in the areas of telepathy and telekinesis, and a radically new unit was created. Terra could again look to maintain its hold over its adversaries.

The sprawling main creation facility, covering one hundred sixty square kilometers, lay at the western edge of the city of Diamond Sands, thirty minutes away by aircar. Work never stopped at the complex, as three shifts operated around the clock, some areas more intense than others, but always moving forward. With the advanced prototype nearing its battle-testing phase, overworked tempers were beginning to fray as researchers and analysts sought ways to overcome the obstacles the newest warrior met.

Man I hate the fucking night shift.

Oh stop complaining, Dav. Besides, what’s to hate? We’re here all alone, for the most part, we pretty much have the run of the place and all the big guys are gone, how can you hate that?

John Davenport snorted. You have no one to go home to. Me, I’m married, remember?

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll give you that, but I like it better at night, it’s peaceful, you know? I will say one thing though, I don’t like going down to the lab after dark, that place is way too creepy for me. I get the feeling they’re all looking right at me when I walk by those pods they’re housed

What’s the matter, Briggs, afraid of the bogeymen? Davenport chuckled.

Stop laughing, it’s damn spooky. I also don’t like the fact that we work in a windowless building, Walter Briggs paused as he swept his arm out over the sterile white, almost drab analysis room the two men worked in, I feel claustrophobic in here when I can’t look out at the stars. And, some of the assholes working here piss me off . . . but other than that this is perfect.

Hey, check this out, Davenport interrupted his colleague.

What?

Come here you’re not going to believe this.

Chair wheels squeaked as Briggs rolled his stocky frame over to look at the computer screen Davenport pointed to. Christ, Dav, I’ve never seen this result in any of the other tests. This is great!

Hell, I’ve never seen this result in any of the other models. Davenport squinted at the holo-terminal.

You wouldn’t see it in any other model, you dummy. This component doesn’t exist in them.

Davenport looked at his friend in exasperation. Shit, I know that you schmuck. It’s just that I’ve seen all kinds of results but nothing like this. Granger’s going to want to know about this.

Yeah, well, you wake him up if you want to. Me, I’m happy just recording it all and letting the day crew give it to him.

You don’t like him do you?

Me? Briggs’ eyes wide in feigned shock. No, I wouldn’t say that. We just disagree on the way the company is moving forward.

I know, you think we should be using all our resources building useful units rather than creating purveyors of death. I—What? What’s so damn funny?

You are, you simp. ‘Purveyors of death,’ where the hell did you come up with a word like that?

It’s a perfectly good word thank you, and it fits. It means supplier. Davenport crossed his arms.

I know what it means, asshole, but you’re using it in the wrong context.

No I’m not. Besides, I’ll use it any way I like.

"God, you’re hopeless. Anyway, I’m as patriotic as the next person. Hell, we shouldn’t have to put up with the colonials trying to blackmail us into giving them independence I know that. But we just keep creating better soldiers to put them in their place. The military’s spending way too much money trying to keep the other worlds in order; either take out the rebels in one fell swoop, or give them their independence."

Damn, Briggs, Davenport looked at his friend impatiently, tying his blond hair into a short ponytail. I thought you just said we shouldn’t let the colonies blackmail us, now you turn around and say give them what they want. I don’t get you sometimes.

That’s not what I meant, damn it. I just don’t see why we can’t build super workers for the asteroid belts. Their efficiency would be better than anything we average types can do. Our production would go through the roof and we’d get a better product without all the unnecessary deaths.

Well, my friend, that sounds good and all, but warfare is a multitrillion dollar business, and baby, business is good. And that’s what keeps us in our jobs, Davenport said, jabbing a finger at his friend.

We could do better by diversifying into the general workforce. We—Hey, Dav, there it is again.

I see it, Briggs. What do you make of it?

Hell if I know, but it’s a definite reduction.

I wonder if the unit realizes what’s happened.

Gentlemen, please stop talking about me as if I was an object. If you have something to share, how about letting me in on it. I am, after all, the subject of the discovery.

The two men jumped at the sudden voice behind them.

Damn it, don’t do that. Briggs quickly turned in his chair. You scared the living shit out of me. Keep sneaking up on us like that and Dav and I may have to shut you down when we’re working.

My apologies, Mr. Briggs, spoke the soft, feminine voice, "I didn’t know I was sneaking. You know how I dislike being discussed as a non-sentient object. A dummy I believe is the word you like to use."

Sorry, we thought you were still in your room on your down time. Briggs looked up at the prototype standing before him.

"Apology accepted. Actually, I was on my down time but I have too much pent up energy and decided to work it off in the gym. I heard you two talking and your excitement of today’s results intrigued me. The warrior turned to Davenport. Good evening, Mr. Davenport. How are you tonight?"

"Fine, thanks for asking. How are you feeling?"

I’m very well, thank you.

Not tired or anything?

No, not at all. I haven’t felt this energized before, it’s a great feeling. Thanks for letting me enjoy it.

Our pleasure, Briggs smiled nervously, his eyes moving furtively over the light blue, sleeveless form-fitting unitard the warrior wore, lingering over her perfect breasts before continuing on to meet her eyes.

The warrior smiled back slightly a glint of approval in her golden-brown eyes. What area of the test is so interesting? she asked after a moment.

"We were watching the results of your telekinetic test, replied the spectacled Davenport who missed the exchange between the two. There was only an 8.213 second delay from the time you commanded the main battle tank to move until it actually did move. That’s fantastic! That’s an eighteen percent reduction in response time from your test last week."

That is good news. But frankly, I should have been able to do it in less than three seconds.

Yeah, well, we know that this TK test has been the biggest obstacle you’ve had to overcome. We’re just . . . kind of proud in your increase in performance, that’s all. That and the fact that we don’t know how you overcame your earlier difficulty.

"Pride, Mr. Briggs? Why should you be proud of my accomplishments?"

Don’t change the subject, missy, what are you hiding? How were you able to reduce the response time?

I’m not changing the subject. I just don’t feel it important to report on how I’m now able to move an 80.56 ton vehicle in just over eight seconds. I’m not so sure you and Mr. Davenport are cleared for this information.

W-What? What do you mean not cleared! I’ll have you . . . well, I’ll be damned, Briggs chuckled after a moment, his surly features softening at the warrior’s teasing. I’ll say one thing, Zero-Zero-Zero-One, the designers built a pretty smile into you that’s for sure. For a moment, I thought you were serious.

"Pride . . . and compliments. How did I ever end up with you two on the night shift?"

Because we hate our wives, smiled Davenport.

The warrior turned raised eyebrows to the forty-year-old Briggs. I didn’t know you were married, Mr. Briggs.

Briggs ran a hand through his thinning brown hair, suddenly feeling uneasy with the warrior’s remark, Oh, I’m not . . . anymore. Dav here is just trying to be funny. He shot Davenport a murderous look.

I see. Somehow I think I missed the joke.

Don’t let your confusion get to you, you’d have to be married to understand. By the way, will you please reconsider our request?

Talk about the changing subjects, Mr. Davenport, that was a nice segue, she placed her hands on her hips, her fingers drumming in irritation. We’re not going to discuss this again, are we? I thought you knew how I felt.

Yes, yes we do. But, Zero-Zero-Zero-One takes too long to say, by the time we get it out, we’ve lost our train of thought.

"It’s not my fault the model designers created so many numbers for me, you average humans did that. Like it or not, my name is Zero-Zero-Zero-One. I don’t want to be labeled as an atypical warrior."

Well, my dear, Briggs stood to face the warrior, his lecturing drawl pronounced, "I wouldn’t quite call you atypical, but let’s look at what you are for just a moment. He counted his arguments off on his fingers. First, you are the product of all the improvements in enhanced human warrior design for the past two hundred years or so. Second, you represent Terra’s hope for everlasting peace by—"

Oh, for Christ’s sake, Briggs.

Let me finish. Briggs glared at Davenport. You represent our hope for everlasting peace because when they get a load of you in action, he continued after a moment, "they won’t be able to surrender fast enough. Third, your creation represents a radical departure from the old school of thought about how warriors should be designed and created. We don’t need the two-meter tall warrior any more; you’re proof of that. All the improvements we’ve come up with over the last two centuries have allowed us to put a much better, more powerful warrior into a smaller package. You’ll be able to blend in with us average human beings better. And, when you have put down the last of the revolts, maybe you’ll be able to go away and live happily ever after someplace where they don’t have to know what you are."

"You don’t really think the government and the Army would ever allow me to leave service, to go live happily ever after as you put it, do you? I represent too much investment to be sent out to greener pastures. I’m the lead unit of the second-generation advanced prototype. If you AHBs have done your jobs well, I will become an Advanced Front Line

Warrior. That’s my goal. That is, after all, why I was created." There was a distinct smirk on her face as she used the acronym for Average Human Beings.

Well yeah, I understand all that, Briggs agreed.

Then, there’s the aspect of my design that bothers me, crossing her arms over her breasts. "As a prototype, I don’t like being a woman. After studying the design specifications, I feel I should’ve been constructed as a man. I don’t mind only being a 178 centimeters tall, but I don’t yet understand the rationale behind being a woman. What do I possess that a male does not?

Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, you people created me as the type of woman that other men will desire, and that is most disconcerting. You AHBs will try to be intimate with me, and I don’t like that idea.

You know, Briggs rubbed his chin slowly, "you make some good points. I didn’t realize you thought about that aspect of your creation. I didn’t think you had these human feelings, but I can’t say I totally agree with you. After all, part of your mission profile is to infiltrate enemy lines in an espionage or assassin type role, maybe that’s why you were created as you are. Maybe the designers figured that since all the improvements to body muscle allowed for a smaller, less severe looking unit, they wanted you to be pleasing to the eye. If there were any other design requirements that the company had, it’s above my clearance level. Hell, other than that, your guess is as good as mine."

I’m as human as you are, Mr. Briggs.

Oh, I know that. Don’t get angry, I realize—

How about the name Matti?

Briggs looked over to where Davenport sat in his chair looking up at the warrior.

Matthew? What would I do with a man’s name?

No, not Matthew, or Matty with a ‘Y’, but Matti with an ‘I’. That’s been used as a woman’s name before.

Where did you come up with that name, Dav?

Think about it, Briggs. She’s an AP-MAT²-X-W unit, right?

Yeah, so?

So, out of all the letters in her model designation, M.A.T. squared, or M.A.T.T. as she really is designated, will remain the same when she gets redesignated to the AFL model. Matti. He shrugged.

Briggs thought about it as the implications of the name ran through his head. His frown turned into a grin at the revelation. Yeah! It’s perfect! Matti. It’s short, doesn’t make our tongues trip over her designation number, and it will always be the same if she ever receives upgrades. I like it.

I will never receive upgrades, Mr. Briggs. Any upgraded model will be created from scratch, I’ll be retired.

Don’t know if I agree with you on that either, Matti. With all the expense wrapped up in you, you may receive retroactive upgrades. It’s been contemplated. Briggs sat on a corner of his workstation, tapping his finger against his chin. "In fact, with what you do cost, and with the way R&D is moving technology forward I’m sure that they’ll want to get the most bang for the buck before they ever design an even more advanced model."

I’m not sure . . . Matti looked away from Briggs. "I’m still uneasy about receiving a tag, but you make some sense. If I am redesignated, people will have to re-learn my new designation. After you have finally gotten used to calling me by my designation or revision alphanumeric code, you’ll have to learn it all over again, that has some merit. However, I’m still a little leery about a non-standard name. If you don’t mind, I’ll think about it some more. I’ll give you my decision tomorrow night."

Well, until you forbid me to use it, Briggs smiled after a moment, his blue eyes twinkling in mischievous delight, I’m going to keep calling you Matti. It’s a good name, and it fits you, especially with those light brown eyes and your black hair. Yup, Matti it is. I think you’ll like it once you get used to it.

Hey, Briggs, look at the time, Davenport looked at his chrono. We have to have the results of today’s tests completed in two hours before Thompsen comes on. You know what a pain in the ass he is if he thinks he has to finish up any work we started.

Briggs stood up, looking at the wall chronometer hanging on the far side of the room.

Yeah, you’re right. Excuse us, my dear, we really need to get back to work, and you need some more down— Briggs stumbled back after seeing the fiery look in Matti’s eyes. It was as if Death itself stood in front of him. A crushing weight bore down on him, he felt as if his chest was collapsing in on itself; try as he might, he couldn’t draw in a breath. He reached for a corner of the workstation and fell to the floor, his body convulsing uncontrollably.

Briggs! What’s wrong? What is it? Davenport reached for him.

Briggs’ look of pure terror left him as Matti stepped between the two men and smiled down at him.

Th—That’s okay, Matti, Briggs replied shakily, wiping sweat from his forehead with his shirtsleeve, the warrior’s voice still echoing in his mind.

What’s okay? What happened, Briggs?

Nothing, Mr. Davenport. I frightened Mr. Briggs. It was careless of me. It won’t happen again, I promise you. She reached down and lifted Briggs gently to his chair.

Matti, what did you do? Did you use telepathy on Briggs?

Yes. Now if you will excuse me, I think I’ll go work off this energy. Goodnight, gentlemen. Matti turned and left.

Briggs sat in his chair, a hand to his pounding head, and watched her walk away.

My God! I never saw, or felt anything like that before, Dav.

What was it, Briggs?

"I don’t know. There was hatred . . . murderous hatred in those eyes. I saw what she felt. She gave me those feelings. I thought she was going pull my insides out, without touching me. My balls felt like they were being squeezed in a vise. My whole body felt that way. Then it was gone. I don’t know what Thompsen’s done to piss her off, but he better not fuck with her anymore.

Christ, Dav, we really did it this time. We have finally created the ultimate death machine. Remind me to stop calling her Matti if she doesn’t like it. I don’t want her after me.

Come on, pal, let’s get you a drink of water. We have to finish evaluating those tests.

Briggs heard the concern in Davenport’s voice and looked up at his friend. Yeah . . . yeah. I tell you, Dav, I don’t ever want to piss her off. Did you see the look in her eyes? Did you?

Come on, Briggs, it’s going to be okay.

Bullshit, Dav! Briggs grabbed his friend by the arms. "It will never again be okay."

The warrior paused in the hallway and leaned against the wall. Her emotions were mixed equally between rage and elation. On the one hand, she was furious with herself for allowing the mention of Thompsen’s name to anger her so, and in the process almost seriously injuring Walter Briggs. It was careless to let her emotions rule her; she would have to be more careful in the future. But, on the other hand, she realized how important and useful anger was going to be in using her telepathic and telekinetic abilities. If she could harness that anger when needed, the warrior knew she’d be able to reduce the lag time between thinking about moving objects and actually completing the task.

She pushed herself of the wall and continued her way toward the gym. The name Matti now presented itself to the forefront of her mind. The more she silently rolled the name over her tongue, the more she liked the idea. Yup, Matti it is, mimicking Briggs’ voice.

Matti, smiled at the memory of Briggs looking her over. He wasn’t obvious about it, but he showed definite interest in her appearance. She’d read his thoughts—she could do that now with regular ease—and he somehow didn’t fit the argument she had given the two men about being viewed as a sex object. It was almost as if Briggs had some sort of hero worship viewpoint towards her. Matti shrugged off the thoughts of Walter Briggs as she reached the gym and walked over to the rowing machine. She had a lot of pent-up energy that needed releasing, and that required concentration.

Dialing the machine to the maximum resistance, Matti sat down, grabbed the T-handle, took a couple of deep breaths and began the rowing exercise. The machine, specifically designed for her, fought back as she pulled the handle toward her. She leaned into the exercise and soon had a quick, steady rhythm going. Muscles bulged with each pull. The speedometer showed 50 kilometers per hour. No average human could get that speed, let alone maintain it, but to Matti it wasn’t fast enough. The rowing machine continued to resist as best it could, but it was losing the battle.

Thoughts of Thompsen invaded Matti’s awareness and she rowed harder in anger. Her body glistened with sweat, her unitard soaking it up. Wisps of hair that had escaped Matti’s ponytail clung to her face, her lips curled back to bare clenched teeth. She was faintly aware that her speed was now up to 70 kilometers per hour, that Thompsen had driven her to this frenzy. A tic developed on the left side of her face, her eyes were flint. Breathing heavily with each pull of the handle, rage spurred her on as his face appeared in her mind’s eye. The machine whined in protest as Matti continued her